years ago, my son, albert, was struck by a car crossing the street after watching a baseball game in baltimore. he was thrown 30 feet in the air on impact and scraped along another 20 feet on the pavement after he hit the ground. i ran to his side and held him and called his name, but he was limp and still, without breath or pulse. his eyes were open with the empty stare of death, and we prayed, the two of us, there in the gutter, with only my voice. his injuries, inside and out, were massive, and for terrible days he lingered between life and death. tipper and i spent the next thirty days and nights at his bedside. our family was lifted and healed, in no small measure by the love, compassion and prayers of thousands of people, most of whom we never even knew. albert is plenty brave and strong, and with the support of three wonderful sisters-- karenna, kristin, and sarah-- and two loving parents who helped him with his exercises every morning and prayed for him every night, he pulled through. and now, thank god, he has fully recovered, and he runs and plays and torments his older sisters like